As clouds hover above,
stilted by a breeze relenting,
its calm malaise in time’s surrendering,
gives cause for a well earned sigh,
a thought let go, no longer fettered,
as I sit in quiet repose.
Life, for all its rush,
can be far less as one touches
an infinite scope,
thoughts that leave earth behind
to follow hearts not minds in just being,
seeing what abounds.
These moments are conscious meditations,
medication for the chaos of life,
surrounded by harsh and cold reprise,
voices of discontent, of blame unrelenting,
and to sit in gaze of eternal wakes,
gives an aching heart, relief.
The clouds now move, ever so slowly,
as if to have healed this frantic mind,
off to some other soul in need,
to seed some thoughts of esoteric tinge,
of letting go the itch that does not cease,
and to disable those fears and worries.
The sky is my internal reflection,
as if played out before my eyes,
the turmoil still inside,
and days like this give credence to my theory,
whatever I see the reflection of me now letting go,
just like those clouds.
The stillness inside is like a panacea,
it flows through me,
ridding me of all my woes
and invigorating a tired body, a mind explored
within an inch of its life,
to at least for now, relax.
And so the sky addresses me,
as I address myself, both
in compromise of the extremes
I stitch into my day, for lack of thinking,
for over-thinking and dismay,
my grievous bodily harm to myself.
Tony DeLorger © 2018